Hendon glared at him wildly.

"How's the little angel--Janet?"

Hendon's hands clenched, and he ground his teeth, while Poynter laughed at him.

"So the big brother's out of the hospital; got over his D.T., and lodging with his sister, eh?"

Hendon made no reply.

"Come, old chap," continued Poynter, "have a cigar, and do try and be sensible. I don't want to do nothing hard, but of course a man must fight for his own hand. I haven't come here to sell you up, but to bring you to your senses, like the friend I always was. Now look here, Hendon, this brother seems to be as loose a fish as a girl could have for a relation; but Miss Heath's as smart a little lass as e'er stepped--"

"Have the goodness to leave Miss Heath's name alone, sir."

"Waxy again. Now look here, Hendon, I'm a rich man. Suppose I say to you, my lad, look out for a snug little practice; I'll lend you the money--can't afford to give it--buy the practice, and marry Janet.

Isn't that being a friend?"

Hendon went on pacing the room.

"Sulky, eh? All right: answer me this, then. Shouldn't I make your sister a better husband than this Mark Heath? Come, be sensible; take me up-stairs to see her. Now, at once. Let me make things pleasant for all of you. What's the good of being enemies, when we might be friends?"

"Friends!"

"Better than being master and slave, eh, Hendon, my lad? Borrower slave to the lender, eh?"

"Ah!" ejaculated Hendon.

"Come, come, you're sensible now. Take me up-stairs, and let's have it out with Rich."

"With Rich!" cried Hendon passionately.

"There, don't you be so cocky, young man. I don't call your Janet, Jenny. Yes, with Rich; my own dear darling Rich. There! How do you like that? Now then, let's get it over."

"My sister is not at home."

"Then we'll go up and see the old man; and let's hear what he'll say to it all. He won't deny that he's in my debt."

"Poor old fellow, no," groaned Hendon to himself.

"I say," said Poynter, turning grave, "where's Rich? She hasn't gone to see that sailor chap?"

"I don't know whom you mean by 'sailor chap,'" said Hendon bitterly.

"Then I'll tell you," he said. "I mean Mark Heath, and I've got a theory of my own about him."

"Curse you and your theories!" cried Hendon fiercely.

"Yes, and bless me and my money," said Poynter, laughingly.

"Stop! Where are you going?"

"This is my house, or as good as mine," said Poynter; "and I'm going up to see my poor old father-in-law to be. I don't think he's properly seen to, and I mean to have him off down to the seaside, to try and pull him round. Coming?"

Hendon was so much staggered by his visitor's cool insolence that Poynter was at the foot of the staircase before he thought to follow; and then, feeling that this man had a hold upon him that he dared not shake off, he followed him up-stairs, and into the sparely-furnished front drawing-room in which the doctor had been lying all through his illness.

He was seated where he could see the window, and his handsome face looked vacant and strange as he turned his head to Elizabeth, who was waiting on him in her mistress's absence.

"Is that Rich?" he said feebly.

"No, doctor, it's me, come for a bit of advice," cried Poynter. "Here,"

he said, turning to the maid, as he whisked his handkerchief round his hat, "you be off."

Elizabeth left the room, wiping her eyes, and Poynter sat down beside the doctor, and shook hands.

"Why, I ought to feel your pulse now, and not you mine," he said boisterously.

"Glad to see you, Mr Poynter. Pretty well, thank you. Is my Rich coming?"

"To be sure she is, old boy. Now I just want a cosy chat with you about Rich."

"About Rich? Yes, yes."

"You remember how I proposed for her?"

The doctor looked at him blankly; and shook his head. "Is Rich coming, Hendon?" he said.

"Yes, father; she is here," he cried; for there was the sound of wheels; and running to the window, he smiled grimly as he saw who descended from the cab.

"Might have stopped a little longer," grumbled Poynter to himself. "It don't matter; the game's mine now. Damn!"

He started from his seat as he saw Rich enter the room, closely followed by Mark Heath and Janet, to whom Hendon hurried with outstretched hands, and after a little hesitation, two little dark well-mended gloves and their contents were placed in his strong grasp.

"Dearest father," said Rich softly, as she hurried to the old man's side.

"Ah," he said, taking her hands, and fondling them, while a brighter smile came into his pleasant vacant face; "that's better--that's better.

Here's Mr--Mr--Mr--"

"Poynter, doctor," said that individual, glad of an opportunity to remove his eyes from Mark's, which were gazing at him rather inimically.

"Yes, yes, Mr Poynter come to see us, Rich."

"And I have come to see you too, doctor," said Mark. "You remember me?"

The doctor looked up at him keenly, and then shook his head, and, with a troubled look in his eyes.

"No," he said. "No--no--no."

"Hah!" ejaculated Poynter, with a smile of satisfaction.